Lahat ng Kabanata ng Love, Lessons, and Late Blossoms: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 19

The coffee shop Lucas picked was quiet and sunlit—one of those places with faded wood floors, half-melted candles in glass jars, and music so soft it felt like it was just for background breathing. He was already there when I walked in, sitting at a table by the window, fingers curled around a mug, eyes scanning the door.When he saw me, he stood—just a small gesture, but it made something in me soften.“Hey,” he said, smiling. “You found it.”“Google Maps and caffeine cravings are a powerful combo.”He chuckled and motioned to the seat across from him. “I already ordered a cappuccino for you. Hope I remembered it right—extra cinnamon?”I blinked. “You remembered that?”“Of course,” he said, sliding the cup toward me. “Details matter.”It should’ve felt strange—sitting across from someone I barely knew, letting him study my face like it was the most natural thing in the world. But it didn’t. Lucas had a way of making space feel calm. He didn’t rush. Didn’t fill silences with nervous c

The office smelled like burnt coffee and morning rain when I walked in Monday morning. The soft hum of printers, keyboard taps, and half-awake greetings filled the space like white noise.But I was still carrying the weekend inside me like sunlight in my chest.My mom’s voice. Aunt Celia’s pancakes. Mara’s ridiculous alien story. The way we had all laughed so hard, the room vibrated.It had felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake from.And now—this was the return. Reality. Emails. Deadlines. People who knew me only as “Layla from editorial.”I dropped my bag at my desk and sat down, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. There was still a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, even as the emails loaded.Then came the knock.“Hey,” said Simone, the managing editor, leaning around the cubicle wall. “You’ve been requested.”“By…?”“Our new intern. She starts today. I figured you’d be a great person for her to shadow. Thought it might be refreshing for you. And probably inspirin

The week after her garden date with Lucas, Layla noticed something had shifted—quietly, but unmistakably—in the space between her and Ethan.It was in the way he lingered longer by her desk, how his jokes now came laced with something softer, slower. He still teased her—mercilessly, sometimes—but it had started to feel less like casual banter and more like testing the air between them.He’d never asked about Lucas. Not directly.But she’d caught the pause in his voice when he’d said, “You’ve been glowing lately. New skincare routine, or…?”And the way he avoided eye contact when Mara casually mentioned the “botanical boyfriend” over lunch.Still, he smiled. Still showed up with coffee. Still stood beside her like he always had.But something was shifting.And Layla wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop it.Thursday afternoon, the office was quieter than usual. Most of the team was out at a client briefing, which left Layla, Ethan, and Zoe working from the open space near the windows.Zoe

The following week passed in a blur of late nights, backlogged edits, and emotional static.Layla felt like she was standing at the center of a spinning compass—each person in her orbit tugging at a different direction.Ethan had grown quieter.He still brought coffee, still offered his signature dry sarcasm in meetings—but the easy warmth between them had cooled, like a summer day that forgot how to be warm.And Zoe?Zoe lingered.Always nearby, always helpful. But she watched Ethan with soft, unspoken yearning, like he was a painting she didn’t dare touch.Layla saw it now. Not just in the way Zoe stared at him, but in how her entire posture changed around him—how she lit up when he asked her opinion or offered a quiet “Good job.”It was innocent.But raw. And real.Friday afternoon, Layla and Lucas met for lunch at a downtown bistro. It was their third “non-date,” and she could feel the shift. The way his eyes rested on her a beat too long, how he leaned in when she laughed.He was

The café emptied slowly around them, but neither noticed.Layla stirred the last of her tea, eyes on A. Renner—this man who had walked into her life with no past, just carefully chosen words and an aura of restraint that both calmed and intrigued her.She couldn’t explain it exactly.It was the way he listened. Not just with his ears, but his entire posture—leaning forward when she spoke, waiting before responding, like every sentence mattered.“So,” she said, tilting her head, “you fund and curate a publishing house in Lisbon, scout quietly, quote obscure essays, and drink black coffee without flinching. Are you real, or are you about to tell me you also compose music in your spare time?”A small, almost bashful smile touched his lips. “I used to. The piano.”“Of course you did.” She laughed, shaking her head.He smiled, but there was a tension beneath it—like he wasn’t used to being seen with such clarity.He lifted his cup. “And you? Do you always spend your Fridays charming strang